Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. "I see nothing surprising in it," rejoined Jonathan. Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve. Rummage, my boy, do.
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